


White Light/White Heat

by animalnitrate



Series: White Light/White Heat [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Dragons, F/M, R Plus L Equals J, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-04-30 08:12:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14492649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animalnitrate/pseuds/animalnitrate
Summary: After a years-long conquest, Daenerys has finally been crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. But a raven from the mysterious Lord Snow of the Night's Watch calls for another war, against a far stranger enemy. If they are to be ready, Dany and Jon must face their demons.Book-compliant only (for the most part).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is close to completely written and will consist of 5 parts. More soon xxx

**Prologue**

_He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold..._

...and then the wind at his back. He was running, breathing hard, racing across open white land. The pain was gone. He realized he didn’t know where he was or where he was going.

He didn’t know _what_ he was.

But he was hungry. He needed meat, and soon. He caught a scent and discovered a rabbit, frozen and preserved under the roots of a ruined tree. By the time he was tearing it apart with his teeth and swallowing it, Jon Snow understood that he was Ghost.

He couldn’t think over the sharp sounds of this world of winter, couldn’t block out its overwhelming smells. He could only get back on the trail, rushing toward an unknown.

Days passed. The moon turned. As he ran, his thoughts dwelt on knives. When he slept his dreams were full of fire.

It was night when he smelled them. Humans. And old trees. Deep water. Jon slowed his pace and searched the snow. He climbed a small hill, scratching at ice with his claws to reveal rock underneath. And there...an opening. A small cave concealed by a cliff edge.

Had he reached Ghost’s destination? What would he find here?

Jon Snow had been granted a new fate. It was time to meet it.

He advanced into the darkness.

 

**Part one**

The raven came at dawn.

Dany awoke to a pounding at her chamber door, as she usually seemed to these days. She rolled over and stretched. Her muscles ached. She was not yet accustomed to sleeping in the Red Keep. King’s Landing was colder than she had imagined, but then again it was winter now—a season Viserys had hardly known.

The voice of Missandei was muffled but insistent. “Your Grace, urgent business.”

Dany dragged furs over her body and called for her handmaiden to enter.

Missandei strode into the room at once. She was no longer so young and small. She had taken well to life in Westeros. “Your Grace, you have been sent a letter which requires your attention,” she said as she brought Dany a silvery gown. “Word from the Wall. Tyrion and Varys beg your presence at an emergency small council meeting.”

“Very well. Tell them I’ll be there shortly.”

Missandei nodded and withdrew. Dany slipped from her bed and pulled on the dress, wondering what fresh trials she would face today as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

The members of the small council—smaller than ever under her rule—rose as she entered the chambers. Tyrion, typically a jovial presence since his restoration as the Hand, looked grave. He passed her a battered piece of parchment as she took her seat.

“The Watchers on the Wall demand your immediate assistance,” Varys began, and even he had lost his simper.

“I thought the Night’s Watch was done,” Dany said.

“No longer. Jon Snow has returned. He has resumed rounding up wildlings and requires your help in defense against…well…”

“The Others, Daenerys,” Tyrion cut in. “It is a situation we can no longer ignore, considering the realm happens to be at peace for once.”

Dany grasped for what details she could remember about the Others. As Grand Maester Marwyn filled in the rest, the key point being that the enemy was vulnerable to fire, her thoughts wandered to the words of her brother’s ghost in the House of the Undying. _A song of ice and fire_ …she could not help but believe it a prophecy—one that would soon rear its head. She and her dragons were the fiery match to this army of ice.

She did not doubt the severity of the situation, but she feared for her fragile political position. She had not yet had her coronation. Her people’s trust in her was shaky at best. But if she did nothing, there might be no people at all.

“We are in dire peril,” Ser Barristan implored her, drawing her back to the present. “Defending the realm should be the highest priority.”

Dany looked around at her advisors. “I agree with you all,” she said. “But first, tell me…who is Jon Snow?”

 

\+ + +

 

A salty spray misted over the deck where Dany stood. She had not missed traveling by ship. But it was the most efficient means of transportation, now that the seas were free of war. She could not carry her entire company on the back of a dragon, after all.

The rest of the Seven Kingdom’s forces would march north once she had made a decision on the Wall. She had to see the danger with her own eyes. She had to speak with this Lord Snow herself.

She could not say she was looking forward to it. He was a Stark, and a bastard Stark at that, whose father had been the usurper’s right hand man. Varys explained how at the age of fourteen, Snow had left his family in Winterfell and joined the Night’s Watch. By seventeen, he had risen to Lord Commander after serving as a spy among the wildlings beyond the Wall. His decisions as the leader were controversial, however, and led to his murder by a few of his brothers. The Night’s Watch fell apart as wildlings fought brothers and Lady Selyse’s men were scattered. Jon Snow was assumed dead. His direwolf Ghost had disappeared as well.

And then the story grew far more mysterious. There were rumors of a zealous red priestess, a fiery sword, a sacrifice, and Snow’s mystifying resurrection. But all of this speculation Varys had gathered was useless. Dany would find the truth of it on her own.

Approaching footsteps interrupted her thoughts. She looked round to see Tyrion moving to join her.

“Your Grace,” he said, grinning. It was the grin of a victory that was still fresh, still beyond belief. At last, Tyrion had the power and respect he had always craved. He had done terrible things to get where he was, but so had she. They had played the game together and won.

“Curious to see the Wall?” she asked him.

“Actually I have seen it before,” he said. “Had I known I would be visiting in future, I wouldn’t have bothered. As I recall, I got into a fair bit of trouble on the way home.”

Dany remembered Tyrion’s story about the sky cells of the Vale. Her poor half-brother had been wrongly accused too many times.

“I even met the infamous Lord Snow,” Tyrion said, to her surprise. “Bit of a stick up his arse. Too serious for his own good.”

Dany could feel Snow’s letter, crushed in the breast pocket of her cloak. _If you are a true Queen, you will come to the aid of your people_ , he had written. While she could not dismiss the sentiment, she resented his tone. Tyrion’s assessment of him seemed sound indeed.

“Of course that was before the war began,” Tyrion continued. “I rather recall I offended him. But he wasn’t all bad, I suppose. I used to be even more offensive than I am now if you can imagine.”

Dany’s laugh was drowned out by the scream of Viserion, who swooped low overhead. Tyrion shouted up to him gleefully. The two were more bonded than ever. They had survived one war together—now they would face another, against a far stranger enemy.

The journey was smooth. Within half a moon’s turn, they arrived at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. Dany was glad to return to horseback for she had missed it dearly since heading West. But night was falling early, along with a heavy snow. The ride West would be cold and hard. On her right, the immense Wall loomed. Within a few hours of riding she began to long for Drogon’s swift wings. But her dragons were out of sight, likely scooping fish from the sea.

It was midnight by the time Castle Black came into view. It was a ruin of a castle, and were it not for the wildling camps that could be seen stretching for leagues, Dany would not believe anyone lived here at all. Tyrion remarked that much had changed since he had last set eyes on the place.

A party of about ten men rode out to meet them. She studied the odd assortment as they approached: there were several old, grizzly fellows who well matched how she had imagined brothers of the Watch. But one was young and very large. Others wore a motley garb of sheepskins, leather, and painted shields. There was a woman as well—Dany could tell she was extraordinarily beautiful even through the snowy darkness.

A figure dismounted and emerged from the rear, the silhouette of a longsword across his back. As the man moved toward her, Dany observed his stoic, purposeful stride. He had long black hair and grim eyes. She sensed immediately that this man was cold and impenetrable.

“Your Grace,” he said, and offered her a gloved hand.

“Lord Commander,” she said, taking it.

Jon Snow helped her off her silver. “Forgive me, but that title is no longer appropriate.”

“Lord Snow, then?”

His expression was curious, but he said, “That will serve.” He turned to her Hand. “Lord Tyrion, it is good to see you. If I recall, you once told me that a mind needs books. I have since confirmed this notion ten-fold.”

Tyrion chuckled. “I do apologize for doubting the Watch’s cause at the time,” he said.

Snow nodded his acknowledgment and then introduced his party. One of the older men was Mance Rayder, who had been king of the wildlings. Another was Iron Emmett and a younger man, Snow’s steward, was nicknamed Satin. The beautiful wildling woman was called Val, and though her apparent prestige among the group was unexplained, she seemed sharp and fierce.

Snow then gave instructions for the horses to be led to the stables and watered, and for her men to be brought to their rooms in the King’s Tower.

“I will take you to the royal chambers, if it please Your Grace,” he said.

She walked with him in silence. She noticed him searching the sky, perhaps for her dragons. He was perfectly courteous, but there was a mistrustful edge in the way he looked at her. He seemed careful with the words he chose.

“We are grateful that you responded to our call for aid,” he began.

“My duty is to protect the realm, is it not?”

“It is,” he said. There was something about his tone that unsettled her.

Their progress on foot was slow. She shivered involuntarily. It was colder than she could have imagined.

“You will need a warmer cloak,” he said. “As will your men. I tried to be clear in my letter about the condition this far north.”

“Many of us came from the East and weren’t properly supplied,” she said, annoyed. They stepped inside the tower and began to climb its narrow staircase.

“We will do our best to supply you, but our allowances are limited. I was forced to borrow from the Iron Bank to feed us through the winter.”

She could see what he was getting at. “Thanks to the usurper’s poor planning, I have little and less to contribute when it comes to coin.”

“And may I ask where the dragons are? They are the sort of thing that must be seen to be believed.”

“They flew behind us. They will be here on the morrow I expect.”

He stopped and faced her, though they were only midway up the stairs. “And what of men? What of an army? Forgive me, but I did not see one.”

“I wanted to assess the state of affairs myself first,” she said tersely. His face was far too close to hers in the cramped corridor.

“I had hoped my letter would make the situation plain,” he said.

Dany bristled. “Lord Snow, I have never met you before. I have never even seen the Wall. Is this how you would thank me for my dutiful response?”

Snow’s gaze was icy. “To me this seems hardly a response at all.”

Dany did her best to temper her threatening fury. “Must I remind you that you are speaking to your Queen?”

“No, Your Grace, but—”

“—A Queen who journeyed a fortnight to come to your aid in a place I have been told has not seen a true King in over a hundred years. I may not yet have organized an army, but perhaps you would do well to remember that I have just won a war. The realm is mending.”

Snow seemed taken aback. Dany continued up the stairs.

“Take me to my chambers,” she commanded as he followed her. “We will meet at your earliest convenience and then you may fill me in on all you wish. If you will excuse me, I have been traveling all day and require rest.”

Snow conceded. “Of course.”

They were silent until they reached her door. He stood on the threshold and gestured for her to enter. The accommodations were not grand, but they would suit. Candles had been lit and there was a jug of water sitting by an inviting fur-laden bed. She turned back to Snow whose sullen face had an odd, detached expression.

“Good night, Lord Snow,” she said to him. “And many thanks.”

He opened his mouth, closed it, and shut the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Dany broke her fast in her rooms while it was still dark out. The days grew ever shorter and the sun never truly rose this far north. Snow’s steward Satin had brought her a simple meal of bread and honey. “First I would like a tour of the fortress,” she told him.

It seemed that the Lord Commander would not trouble to take her around himself. “Lord Snow broke his fast with the men,” Satin explained. “And now he is taking inventory. He will meet you at noon, if it please Your Grace.”

“Who will lead me, then?”

“Maester Tarly awaits you downstairs, Your Grace.”

Tarly turned out to be the large young man she had noticed the night before. He fell to his knees clumsily the moment he saw her.

“It is an honor to meet you,” he mumbled. “You are just how I imagined, if you will permit me to say.”

Dany smiled and bid him to stand. “And how is that?”

“Er, very beautiful. And very elegant,” he said, going red. She laughed and took his arm.

They descended to the dark and winding wormways, which Tarly said were the easiest route for getting around the castle during winter. He showed her the cells under Hardin’s Tower and described the strength of the Tower of the Guards. They then passed through the library in the deep vaults, about which Tarly was most enthusiastic. Dany enjoyed the busy rookery. Tarly told her that he lived under it in the Maester’s keep.

“I should like to walk along the Wall,” she said when he asked if there was anything else she wished to see.

“Of—of course, Your Grace,” he squeaked.

She was embarrassed to find herself nervous as they rode in the winch cage, up and up and up. Tarly offered his arm and she gripped it gratefully. As they stepped off, he teased that surely flying was more terrifying than a lift ride.

Dany had a mind to respond that she trusted her dragons more than any man-made machinery... but the view stole her breath. Before her was the most spectacular sight she had ever seen. Westeros stretched to the horizon, limitless. There was the kingsroad, twisting among hills and rivers through Winterfell and beyond. The wolfswood extended for leagues. White land faded to a patchwork of greens and browns. She realized that, for the first time truly, she was gazing upon her home. She belonged here.

She clutched her breast as emotion consumed her. Tarly had the grace to stay silent.

A long moment passed before she rubbed her eyes and turned to him. “I vow I will win this war and see it all one day,” she said.

Tarly bowed his head.

She looked long and hard at the land beyond the Wall. It seemed to challenge her.

Soon the wind became too fierce to bear. As they lowered to the ground, shouts rang out from the wildling camps and from the many keeps and towers of Castle Black. Dany was puzzled as to the source until she made out the distinct call of _"Dragons!"_   Tarly gasped in awe.

Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion had returned together. Their silhouettes were striking against the pure snow, wings beating in unison. Drogon caught sight of Dany as she emerged from the winch cage and roared his greeting.

There was nowhere for the dragons to land as the space that Snow’s men worked hard to keep clear of snow was not nearly large enough. But they seemed content to perch on the Wall. Rhaegal’s green wings draped over it while Viserion blended in. Drogon’s burning eyes could be seen all the way from the ground. Though Dany was used to the majesty of her full-grown dragons, she had to admit it made a picturesque sight.

She was startled to realize that Jon Snow was standing but a few feet from her, staring up at them. He seemed utterly unfazed by the sight that thousands around the world had taken the knee before. It occurred to her that perhaps this was a man who had seen more of the fantastic and unusual in his short time than many see in the whole of their lives. He had the air of someone thrice his age.

Dany could not resist. “Do you believe now?” she asked him.

Snow blinked and looked to her with guarded, appraising eyes. She wondered what he could be thinking.

After several heartbeats, he cleared his throat. “We will meet presently, if it please Your Grace.”

She told him it would.

Dany walked with him to a small room off the Common Hall. Tyrion, Grey Worm, and Ser Barristan were already seated, along with Maester Tarly, Rayder, Val, some men of the Night’s Watch whom Dany recognized, and…

“A child,” Dany said, shocked.

Snow took the chair to the right of the head of the table. “He is my brother.”

Dany followed him but did not sit. “Forgive me, but I do not see how that is relevant.”

She could tell she was already testing Snow’s patience, and the meeting had not even begun. “Bran has an instrumental role to play in these matters, as I will explain,” Snow said.

The boy knelt before her. “I am Bran of House Stark, Your Grace. I am greatly honored to be in your presence.” He was charming, as courteous as could be. He did have the Stark look about him.

“I am honored to meet you as well, little lord,” said Dany kindly, for it was not the child’s fault. “But you are young yet. I do not see the need to fill your head with such troubles.”

Everyone jumped when Snow slammed his fist onto the table. “We need Bran to deliver us the Children of the Forest or we will lose this war.”

Dany stared at him.

“Please, Your Grace,” he said. “Sit.”

She sat.

“Before we get into plans and details, I think it would be prudent to lay out the timeline we have before the White Walkers are upon us.” He looked to Dany for approval. She gave him a grudging nod.

They estimated about three moon turns. Snow confirmed that while wights could be killed with fire alone, the White Walkers were susceptible only to dragonglass. It seemed that the main concern was how to increase the manufacture of obsidian daggers, as the Watch only had about fifty in total.

“We must consider arrowheads as well,” Dany suggested. “To rain down from the Wall. Will that work? Otherwise that advantage will be rendered useless.”

Snow looked to her, and then to Bran. “We could ask them,” Bran said. “The Children.”

Dany was stunned to hear that far beyond the Wall there was a dwelling where some still existed. Bran had spent time there (around which the circumstances seemed extremely mysterious), and somehow established a relationship between them and the Wall. During the legendary War for the Dawn, the Children had teamed up with men to destroy the White Walkers eight thousand years before Aegon’s landing. It was time for that alliance to reform.

“And you can contact them,” Dany said. “From here.”

“Yes,” said Bran, to her amazement. In that moment, he seemed even older than Snow. It became clear to her that Bran was the source of nearly all the information they had about the enemy.

“Then we must learn from them,” said Dany, looking around at the council on whose shoulders the fate of the world rested. “We will learn how to make daggers ourselves and import obsidian from Dragonstone and Asshai. We will double and triple manufacture, and drill our soldiers in hand-to-hand combat. Ser Barristan, you will lead the training.”

He gave a solemn nod.

“We’ll need to appoint our best archer to lead the siege from atop the Wall. Tyrion and I will take to the sky, burning wights by the thousands. Grey Worm, you and the unsullied will be on the ground, with Rayder and the wildlings as the van.”

“The men will be pleased,” Mance agreed.

“Our sister Arya will bring the wolves as well,” Bran said. “She is traveling with the pack as we speak.”

“Good,” said Dany. “And Lord Snow…”

He face seemed frozen when she turned to him.

“You will be my first-in-command, general over the entire armed forces.”

She waited for him to protest, to tear her plan to shreds. She waited for him to declare that _he_ was in charge, that she had no authority as a green girl, the juvenile Queen of a country she barely knew.

But his voice had the distinct air of consent as he insisted, “And we must ask all those loyal to you to call their banners and march north. Immediately.” 

She couldn’t stop herself from smiling slightly. “Will they think me mad?”

Something flickered in his eyes.

“Aye,” he said.


	3. Chapter 3

As Dany fed her dragons from atop the Tower of the Guards, thousands of Northmen poured into the Castle Black grounds led by the Lady of Winterfell, Sansa Stark. Dany would sup with the ambitious young woman come dusk. They had not met in person, despite Sansa’s essential part in securing the loyalty of the North. Dany expected the armies of the Riverlands to arrive within a fortnight, and Dorne was in the process of arranging ships. She was pleased, as Tarly had sent the ravens a mere eight days past. Most lords had not needed as much convincing as she had supposed—too many tales of their foe had reached too many ears for the truth to be denied any longer.

Dany tossed Drogon a raw shoulder of beef. He scorched it in mid-air, but Rhaegal swooped in and snatched the meat before it could reach his mouth. Dany laughed and ripped off another piece.

“You love them as humans,” a female voice observed.

Dany turned to see that Val had joined her on the otherwise empty balcony, her hood covering her blonde hair.

Drogon stretched his neck toward Dany and she ran her hand along his scales. “They are the only children I will ever have.”

Val’s brow furrowed. “Why do you say that?”

“Do the wildlings put much stock in prophecies?” Dany asked, watching her dragons fly away. Val joined her at the ledge.

“No,” Val said. “But since meeting Jon Snow…one begins to question one’s assumptions.”

Dany looked at her carefully. “Tell me of what happened. Of how he came back to life.”

She half-expected Val to refuse. But the wildling woman had begun to trust Dany since the council meeting. “First you must know of the Red Woman.”

Dany had heard tales of Melisandre of Asshai. The Red Priestess had arrived at the Wall with Stannis Baratheon, whom she had claimed to be Azor Ahai, wielder of Lightbringer, and the rightful heir to the throne. But she had been manipulating the poor man all along like a puppet, Val said. Once Stannis was dead, the Red Woman revealed she knew the true king to be Snow.

“I wonder what he thought of that,” Dany said, smirking. She could not imagine the somber Lord Snow taking any pleasure in such a notion.

“She never told him,” said Val. “His brothers killed him first.”

So that part was true at least, Dany thought. Snow was considered dead for a time, Val explained, as chaos erupted at the Wall and she did all she could to control the free folk. But Melisandre proclaimed that Snow, the prince that was promised, must be resurrected. She built an immense pyre to encase his frozen body with his sword Longclaw, made of Valyrian steel. Val watched the fire consume him with her own eyes as the Red Woman sang and prayed.

And then a shadow moved within the flames. Jon Snow came forth bearing Longclaw. He walked to Melisandre and pierced her heart with the blade. It emerged aflame, casting a blazing light over the awed onlookers who took the knee before it.

Val told the story as if she could hardly believe it herself. Of all the impossibilities, one bothered Dany the most. “Why didn’t the fire burn him?”

Val shook her head. “You now know as much as I. He is a mystery.”

Dany could not dispute that.

They walked down to supper together. Though it was not possible to afford a proper welcoming feast for the armies of the North, the merriment was palpable in the crowded common hall. She took her place at the head of the first table.

Lady Sansa entered shortly after. The girl was breathtaking.

“Lady Sansa,” Dany greeted her, smiling. “I have a feeling we will be fast friends.”

Sansa giggled and sat. “I was hoping for the same. You are just as beautiful as they say.” Dany returned her compliments.

Snow and Tarly joined them as the stew and bread were being served. Their heads were bowed as they muttered to one another in low voices.

Sansa scoffed. “My brother, the Lord Commander. So serious these days.”

“Was he ever not?” Dany teased, but it was a genuine question. Snow glanced at them, annoyed, and turned back to Tarly.

A great shout went up from the adjacent table. Sansa leaned in to Dany and said, “Lord Tyrion seems to be in his cups.”

She was not wrong. Tyrion was surrounded by rowdy wildlings who chanted as he drank directly from a flagon. Dany let it go; Tyrion had been busy all day arranging a trade with Asshai.

“Were you not married to him at a time?” Dany asked, though she knew perfectly well. The union had been a great source of unhappiness for her unfortunate Hand.

“The marriage was not valid,” Sansa said, toying with her stew. “Forgive me, but I must say I am surprised he is alive after all that has happened, that he…the tales one hears of him riding dragons. Is it wise, the power you have bestowed on a Lannister?”

Sansa seemed terribly nervous, but Dany could not blame the girl for asking.

“I would trust him with my life,” Dany told her. “And I have done.”

“Then I shall trust him with mine,” said Sansa with some relief. “And if my brother approves…”

Snow tore into his bread and chewed, seeming to consider. “Lord Tyrion is a good man,” he said.

Dany was grateful he felt that way. But she could not believe he and Sansa shared the same blood. Their demeanors were quite opposite.

The next morning on the yard among the wildling camps, as Dany watched over a team of free folk carving arrowheads from dragonglass, she caught sight of a vast white beast stalking toward her.

She found she wasn’t afraid. “You must be Ghost,” she said. The direwolf’s eyes were rather like Snow’s, she thought—solemn and cautious.

She removed a glove and held out her hand to him. He padded closer. His cold, wet nose brushed her fingers as he sniffed deeply. Dany laughed, delighted, when his pink tongue emerged, licking a friendly stripe up the length of her palm.

She chanced a pat on his head. He closed his eyes into it, seeming to enjoy the attention.

She was petting him for a good while when she caught sight of Jon Snow, watching from a few yards away. He had on a strange expression. He hardly seemed to feel the immense load of firewood he was carrying on his back.

Ghost pushed his face into Dany’s breast. “What?” she said.

Snow was very still. “Nothing. He likes you, is all.”

“Oh,” said Dany, a bit nonplussed.

Snow walked on. Ghost remained with Dany.

 

\+ + +

 

It had been a moon’s turn since Dany’s arrival at the Wall. The war would soon be upon them, and she was beginning to worry they would not be ready.

She stepped onto the training yard at midnight when it was blissfully deserted, her _arakh_ bouncing against her hip. She unsheathed her longsword, _Dracarys_. It had seen her through one war—she hoped it would fair well in the next. She whirled, whipping it through the silent, snowy night.

While her arm strength was at last beginning to improve, she had much to learn when it came to finesse. Ser Barristan had begun giving her private lessons before she had led her armies West. The discipline had come to her fairly naturally, though she tended to lunge without thinking or planning. But she had Targaryen instincts, the ability to read intention in her opponent’s eyes.

She practiced the strikes Barristan had taught her, picturing the faces of all she had killed to earn her place on the Iron Throne. The images humbled her, made her focus.

Footsteps close behind her. “Your technique is too light,” a voice said.

Dany swung by reflex. With a clang, Dracarys met Longclaw. Jon Snow had also chosen to make use of the late hour on the training yard. His eyes were dangerous—she realized he was challenging her to a duel. He increased the pressure of his blade against hers. She could feel sweat beading at her temples as her strength began to fail. When she could stand it no more, she slid Dracarys sharply out from under Longclaw, retreating until they were several yards apart in a defensive stance.

He began to circle her. She echoed him, trying to watch his feet, his hands, and his face all at once. The swirling wind was full of flakes of ice, confusing her.

“You cannot learn by swinging at the air,” he said. His condescension angered her.

His eyes flashed half a heartbeat before he charged. She deflected him, knowing she could never withstand the force of his blows by blocking. With a tricky sidestep, she directed a strike toward his neck; he ducked easily and took the opportunity to aim at her hip. She could not bring her sword down fast enough to deflect the assault, but managed to dodge it by a hair.

“Your footwork is decent,” he said, and lunged again.

Snow’s attack was tireless. It was all she could do to avoid his cuts for there was never a moment to attempt her own. His one-handed power with the unusually long blade was astonishing. 

“A bastard sword,” Dany observed after leaping away from another crashing blow. “How appropriate.”

The taunt had an effect on him—Dany was able to sneak in a strike at his side. Snow blocked her just in time. They held eye contact, and she could see that he was taken aback. Despite herself, she found that she wanted to impress him. She wanted to smash away his skepticism and force him to see her as a worthy leader.

She moved on the offense. He parried all of her cuts, but she was quick. Blow by blow she forced him backward. Clearly annoyed, on her next strike Snow pushed his blade hard against hers, forcing it to point skyward. Dany gave way to impulse—she brought down the hilt with all her might onto his chest.

To her shock, Snow fell. But he stuck out his foot and she tumbled down with him. By the time her back had hit the ground and she had opened her eyes, Longclaw was at her throat.

Snow loomed over her, his knee pressed into her leg. She was pleased to notice he was out of breath, even if his skills far outmatched hers.

He sat back and rose to his feet, sheathing his sword. “You have a natural skill,” he said, and held out his hand.

She accepted it and he helped her to her feet. “For a woman?” she teased.

“For someone who has only held a sword since winter came,” he said. “But your feeble cuts don’t do enough damage.”

“Ser Barristan has told me as much,” she admitted.

“And your other blade,” Snow said, indicating her _arakh_. “May I?”

She nodded permission. He stepped toward her and pulled it from her body. After removing a glove, he examined it, running his fingers along the curved steel. She noticed his bare hand was riddled with scars.

“You could have used this against me well,” Snow said, lost in thought.

“I did not see a chance.”

“There is always a chance,” he said with a certain fervor. “You must be more creative.”

Dany considered him. The man was joyless and stern, to be sure. But she was not blind to the fact there was something to be learned from him.

“Once more, then,” she said, and could have sworn he almost smiled.

By the time they both collapsed from exhaustion, it was near dawn. She could not even feel the cold by then. Ser Barristan had never managed to inspire in her such tireless fury.

As they retreated to the nearest keep, she said, “I am glad we are on the same side, Lord Snow. You are a formidable adversary.”

“And so will you be, in time.”

Dany thanked him but thought, _not time enough_.

They passed through the doors into the warmth of the keep. He shook the snow out of his long, wild hair and bid her good night. Ever diligent, he was off to the armory to sharpen Longclaw back to a deadly point.

As he turned to go, she ventured a stab in the dark. “Or shall we call it _Lightbringer_ , now?”

He stopped. The silence was thick. After a long while, he cleared his throat. “It has belonged to House Mormont these five hundred years,” he said, keeping his back to her. “I will not dishonor its history with such absurdity.”

“But has it not been kissed by fire?”

Perhaps it was the adrenaline from sparring all night that made her say it. She felt a burning urge to provoke him into madness, to crack and shatter that icy exterior in a way that her sword could not.

Snow seemed not to breathe. “Where did you hear that phrase?” he demanded, every syllable a threat. But she was not afraid of him.

“The men talk. Surely you know this.”

Snow whirled around. It gave her immense satisfaction to see how angry he was. “It is nobody’s business,” he said.

But the story was an open secret at Castle Black. Dany had been astounded to hear of his so-called passionate affair with a wildling woman while under cover beyond the Wall.

“She must be a wonder,” Dany said. “To have made you break your vows.”

For a moment she was sure he was going to strike her. But then, she saw the fire leave him. His grey eyes grew sad.

“Her name was Ygritte,” he said quietly.

A dawn suffocated by snow streamed through the windows. Guilt strangled Dany.

“Forgive me, My Lord,” she said.

But Snow had grown cold again, his disposition ironclad. “I am no Lord. And there is nothing to forgive. Good night, Your Grace.”

As he walked away from her, Dany rather thought she was the worst woman in the world.


	4. Chapter 4

Without telling anyone, Dany went beyond the Wall.

She moved with some effort, the heaviest furs she could find pulled over her body. Today the last of her armies had arrived and Castle Black was a little too crowded for her liking. She had asked Ser Barristan and Grey Worm to organize them, giving instructions to the generals and sending them to their assigned castles. For the first time in living memory, all nineteen would be fully garrisoned.

She had grown tired of men fawning over her. She had been presented with dozens of useless gifts, hundreds of proclamations of undying love. If one more poor fool asked if they could be the third head of her dragon…she might even let them try.

As she waded through the thickest snow she had ever seen, she was drawn back to that ever-demanding question of _who_.

_There must be one more…The dragon has three heads…_

Rhaegar’s whispers were growing louder. She tried not to dwell on her vision from the House of the Undying overmuch, but the nagging feeling never left her. In her heart, she knew they could not defeat the Others if she did not find a rider for Rhaegal.

Ser Jorah had hoped, once. The memory made her smile, despite how overwhelmed she had felt at the time. But dragon’s blood was the key. She had known that since she and Tyrion had discovered his true ancestry.

Dany often thought of the pretender who had called himself Aegon Targaryen. And she well remembered watching him die. He had believed in his own falsehood right up to the end. She had no regrets.

The trouble was, there were no more Targaryens.

Dany pushed her way into the woods. She had not intended to go far, for who knew if a White Walker was close, perhaps scouting at the Wall. Up ahead she could see a clearing. She would stop there and take time to clear her head.

She sat down among the roots of a weirwood tree, one of many. It felt a bit warmer here. She closed her eyes and drifted off, thankful to have found a brief respite from the incessant demands of a Queen on the brink of war.

But it couldn’t have been more than five minutes before she jerked awake, sensing a presence nearby. Her hand flew to her sword as she peered through the endless white.

The red eyes of a weirwood seemed to move. She blinked a few times to be sure of what she was seeing. Still, they came closer.

Her heartbeat was the only sound. She dared not cry out.

And then she realized—the eyes belonged to Ghost.

She sighed in relief and offered him her hand. The beast approached with caution. Dany smiled encouragement, surprised that he did not bound up to her like he normally did. Perhaps he sensed they were in a dangerous place.

Ghost reached her at last and allowed Dany to pet him. “I did not expect to find you here,” she said.

He looked up at her and Dany was stunned by what seemed a distinctly reproachful gaze.

“You don’t like that I’m here?”

Ghost’s eyes were angry, or was it disappointment? She had thought Ghost intelligent, but never before had he appeared to understand her.

“Perhaps you disapprove of me invading the place of your gods.”

Dany stroked him in his favorite spot, between the ears, but his uneasy expression did not change.

“Where is your master?” she asked him.

She had not spoken more than a few words to Jon Snow in the three days since their explosive confrontation. She had searched for a moment to apologize again, but he was obviously avoiding her.

Ghost pulled away from her hand with some reluctance and trotted off. But before he got far, he turned his head and looked back. She realized he wanted her to go with him.

“I want to stay a bit longer,” she told him. “I’m not ready to face the world just yet.”

But Ghost growled, pawing at the ground. Dany had never seen him so agitated.

“I suppose if you insist,” she said.

Ghost led her back a different way from how she had come. A faster way. He well knew the land beyond the Wall, it was clear. It was about time for supper when they returned to Castle Black, so she made for the Common Hall while Ghost darted off in the other direction.

She was hanging up her sodden furs when, to her surprise, Jon Snow came straight toward her.

“I must needs speak with you,” he demanded. He was rather breathless, as though he had just been running.

She allowed him to lead to her to a corridor off the hall. “What is this about?”

“You went beyond the Wall alone,” he said. It wasn’t a question. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”

Dany struggled for words. “But how—?”

Snow ignored her. “You could have frozen to death, or worse. Anything might have been out there.”

“How could you know?” she wondered aloud, not troubling to deny her actions. “You and Ghost…somehow…”

She studied Snow’s carefully guarded face. She thought of Ghost running off, and Snow appearing in his wake. She thought of Ghost’s eyes that had seemed so human.

“You saw what he saw,” Dany said, far away.

“You cannot be so irresponsible. We are all relying on you.”

She blinked. “Are you?”

Snow looked at her with unreadable eyes. “You are the Queen,” he said.

As shocked as she was at his sudden concern for her wellbeing and position, she didn’t let that distract her from the dawning realization: “And you are a skinchanger,” she said.

A loud cheer rung out from the hall, saving him from having to respond. He made to head inside, walking away quickly. She followed him.

She caught up to him as he reached the bread-laden table and grabbed his arm. She leaned in to him and said, “If you were Ghost, then you too went beyond the Wall alone. We are both guilty.”

Snow’s mouth twitched, as though he were about to laugh. She wondered what that would be like—she doubted he had ever so much as smiled.

 

\+ + +

 

The notion that Jon Snow was a skinchanger, a warg, plagued Dany’s thoughts for days following the encounter. Were it not for Snow’s failure to deny it, she would have scarcely believed such a thing were possible.

And yet she knew what she had seen when she looked into Ghost’s eyes in the weirwood clearing. There was a kind of human consciousness there. And wasn’t Drogon far more deeply bonded with her than the ordinary companionship between owner and pet? Between Tyrion and Viserion, as well, there was an unspoken communication that had finally calmed the beast, given him purpose. It was Rhaegal who remained restless.

It was this thought that made her lose sleep, night after night. When she did sleep, this question of Rhaegal’s rider entered her dreams. Visions of a raging battle in a night snowstorm at the Wall. Flying on Drogon’s back and struggling to dodge massive ice picks pelting from below. Tyrion and Viserion in sight to her left, but Rhaegal far in the distance, falling behind. Sometimes there seemed to be a shadowy figure commanding him, but more and more often there was no one at all.

Her eyes opened mid-dream. An idea seized her that she couldn’t shake, even though it was completely mad. She slipped out of her furs and reached for a candlestick, lighting it with the still scorching coals of the fire by her bedside.

The Castle Black corridors were made even blacker by the lateness of the hour. She navigated the darkness until she found a steward standing watch. She demanded he bring her to Lord Snow at once.

The man looked taken aback, but told her he had brought the Lord Commander up onto the Wall, not an hour ago. Astonished, she allowed the steward to accompany her out into the icy, unforgiving air of winter, to the winch cage. The steward remained below to turn the crank, bringing her up into the treacherous white and black sky.

Snow had heard the screaming of the winch chains, and was waiting for her as she stepped off the platform onto the ice of the Wall. She wondered what he had been thinking about, up here alone.

“I apologize for finding you at this time of night,” she said. “But I need to speak with you urgently.”

He just looked at her, his face grim as ever.

“In the East, in Qarth, I visited a terrible place,” Dany began, feverish. “It brought me a vision that has never left my thoughts.”

She did her best to put into words what she had seen in the House of the Undying, many years ago now. “Aegon conquered Westeros and began a dynasty with his sisters. Three heads.” She looked out beyond the Wall, at the evil they would soon face. “As you’ve seen, Tyrion is one of my heads. He has the dragon’s blood in him and Viserion took to him right away. But I have not been able to find the third head. Rhaegal’s rider. I had thought it might be my brother Rhaegar’s son, when I heard he’d survived...but he turned out not to be what I hoped. I fear we are destined to fail with only two heads. I fear—”

Snow cut her off. “I am not one to put my faith in so-called ‘destiny,’” he said coldly. Dany guessed he was thinking of the Red Woman.

“I know things between us haven’t been…simple, exactly,” she said. “And I know you haven’t always approved of me, as Queen of the realm or a leader in this war. I’ve overstepped, treaded on your territory, insulted you. I’ve been foolish and went beyond the Wall on my own, learned something about you I perhaps shouldn’t have.”

She moved half a pace closer to him, desperate to make him understand.

“But I believe now, I was meant to. I was meant to learn of your ability. You see, Jon Snow, I did not come to fight this fight merely because of hearsay.”

She took a deep breath. Snow was as still as stone.

“I came because I _do_ believe in the prophecies,” she said, finding herself shouting over the rising wind. “Rhaegal grows restless, out of my control. I believe that to defeat the Others, I need a third head. Now, I wonder, if the ability to _be_ a dragon might suit just as well as a rider of one, even a man without dragon’s blood.”

Dany could pinpoint the moment when he realized what she was proposing. His eyes were steady but there was a halt in his breathing, nearly imperceptible. He stared at her with an unnerving intensity. He was a hard man to read; he had risen a barrier inside himself a thousand times thicker than the very wall they stood upon. She wondered for the hundreth time if he had always been so cold.

Regret flooded her. “I haven’t thought…I fear I have overwhelmed you,” she said, and began to turn back to the winch.

His hand leapt out, grasped her wrist—a stone man with reflexes like lightning. His grip was strong but fleeting. He whipped his fingers away as though burned. The wind’s screaming song died and Dany felt as though the night at the edge of the world was swallowing them.

Jon Snow bowed his head. “It seems I must tell you. There is no choice.”

Dany nodded, not knowing what she was agreeing to hear, not knowing what fresh secret he held.

“If you’ll join me in my solar,” he said.

His rooms were not prepared. It was a plain sort of place to sleep. Snow tossed his heavy black furs aside and gestured for her to sit in one of two simple chairs beside the fire. He kneeled, taking his time to light the fire, coaxing it back to life. When it was ablaze, he rose and sat with her. She looked at him, waiting.

And then, to her shock, Snow let his face fall into his hands. “It pains me even to speak of it,” he said into his closed fists. “I’m not sure you’ll understand.”

Despite herself, Dany felt her frustration melt away. She leaned forward and brushed his arm with her cold fingertips. His silvery eyes flew open. “I can promise I will try,” she said.

Snow lowered his large trembling hands. Dany waited.

“When I was killed by my brothers, I awoke in Ghost’s body,” he began. “I was in his mind, preserved. During this time, I found my brother Bran beyond the Wall, whom I thought had died. He told me…he had discovered who I was. Who my parents were.”

“You are a bastard,” Dany said carefully. “Son of Eddard Stark.”

Snow shook his head, breathed a shaky breath. “He was not my father. But his sister was my mother.”

Dany mouthed _Lyanna…?_

“She married my father in secret...your brother, Rhaegar.”

A chill shivered its way through Dany’s body. It could not be. It was impossible. _But he ran off with Lyanna_ , Dany reminded herself, skimming her long buried knowledge of that history. _Rhaegar made Robert Baratheon jealous and launch a rebellion for love of Lyanna…_

There was a look of absolute fear in Snow’s eyes. She believed him.

“Then we are kin,” she said slowly. “You are a Targaryen.”

Snow looked away. “I don’t know what I am.”

Dany returned to her rooms not long after. But sleep was far out of reach.


End file.
